A Scandal In Bloomsbury
by imnotyourhousekeeper
Summary: Re-uploaded to try and sort formatting issues. The year is 1996 and Sherlock Holmes is enrolling at the University of Central London. Rooming with John Watson, will this be a friendship that blossoms as we know it? An AU fic with BBC Sherlock characters
1. Chapter 1

**A Scandal in Bloomsbury**

**By "That's Why I'm Sherlock And You're Watson"**

Chapter One

The taxi pulled up and John leaped out with a nod of thanks to the cabbie as he thrust a crumpled note through his window. Looking up at the supposedly deserted building, it seemed eerie that the lights were on in the middle of the night. He lifted his jacket collar as he shivered against the night air and made for the door, desperately trying to think where to start. He figured his only choice was to systematically search the building, room by room.

John ran through the corridors of the college, his frantic footsteps echoing through the empty halls. He glanced through the window at every door, trying to find a balance between looking too hard and wasting time, and missing the room he was looking for. A panic began to rise within him as he glanced at the clock above the entrance to each identical corridor - he could see the minutes passing as he raced through the labyrinth of classrooms and lecture halls. He couldn't tell for sure, but he knew inside that something was wrong. It was a good job he was physically fit, he thought as he tackled the stairs, his mind focused on the friend he was searching for. He replayed the phone call over and over in his head.

Then he saw him. With a glance he did a double take and stopped. The dark hair and suit: definitely him. No mistaking. He thought he had made it, just in time, as he reached into the pocket of his leather jacket, and felt the cold metal against his palms that had, by now, started to sweat.

"Stamford!" he shouted.

Stamford started in alarm at the sudden noise as he turned to see John, gasping for breath in the doorway, "John, you're out of breath".

"Well… yes!" he panted "You told me it was an emergency. What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. I didn't mean it was a _real_ emergency, just y'know, pretty important."

John crouched, leaning against the wall and gulping lungfuls of air. "Don't do that to me again Mike, seriously. I thought there was something seriously bloody wrong".

"You're so loyal" Mike chuckled. "Anything for a comrade, eh?"

"Better directions would have been nice before you hung up at least." John looked around the empty classroom - he hadn't been here before. Wasn't this the English department?

"So – wa.. wait, what are you doing here at eleven at night?", John was accustomed to racing through the university to class, but this was a building he hadn't frequented since first year. John was a fourth year medical student and Mike Stamford, his peer. He certainly had never been anywhere other than the library at this hour before.

"Doing some work for ol' Jonesy, why?" Mike turned to look at John sat on the floor behind him. "Ha'way if you're going to sit then use a chair, man". Mike gestured to a stool to his right.

"Since when were you a student assistant to Jones?"

"Since I failed my last paper – and need him on my side before we start clinical rounds"

John murmured some sound of agreement. "Unfortunately, I think you need tits to have Jones on your side mate."

Stamford laughed. "Yeah, he's a right sleaze. If I were a girl, I'd bat my eyelashes and wear a low cut top. However, I am instead, working at eleven at night, doing research for him". The pair sat in silence as John surveyed the room a little more. "Here, you could get your Sarah to put in a good word for me. He loves her" teased Stamford.

"Shut up, Mike"

"What?"

"Don't talk about her like that!"

"Don't get touchy. Didn't say anything about her. Just that she's pretty and Jones' favourite. Both are true."

"I know, but the way he looks at her makes me sick. And anyway, she's not my Sarah"

"Yet" Mike winked at John optimistically. "You done anything about that yet?"

"No, no. But I will. I think"

"Get on with it. Before Jones gets there first!" scoffed Mike. John considered it briefly. He thought about it quite often actually, in fact sometimes constantly. When their schedules crossed at the hospital or the college, it took all his energy not to gaze at Sarah with eyes like a lost kitten. Worse still was when he saw her in halls – she lived the floor below, the opportunity was easily his but he never had had the initiative to actually get on with it and ask her out.

"Anyway, did you bring it?" Stamford snapped him out of his moment over Sarah, bringing his attention back to the reason that he was there in the first place and John reached into his pocket.

"Yes"

* * *

><p>"Holmes, Sherlock. Enrolling in…" There was a pause as the light taps of the computer keyboard filled the otherwise silent office once again. Shifting impatiently, Sherlock resisted the urge to interrupt the woman's flow and instead took to scrutinizing the surrounding room, "Human Sciences, undergraduate degree" she concluded finally, glancing to the new student who gave a curt nod in return. The room fell back into the awkward quietness – the administrator's eyes darting between the computer screen, the clock on the wall and Sherlock himself. Just once, the latter allowed himself to look up at the clock behind him too, before his lips stretched into a slight smile.<p>

"Don't say much, do you?" Turning his attention to the front, Sherlock found that the woman had stopped typing and was now looking directly into his face. He blinked wearily and shrugged his shoulders. With a soft chuckle, an empty form was pushed across the desk. Sherlock drew it closer and watched carefully as the administrator, once again, checked the time. The silence continued as Sherlock began to fill the form in lazily, scrawling his personal details with very little enthusiasm.

The tinny sound of some current pop song disturbed the formality of the setting and Sherlock took the short interruption to check his watch before briefly studying the young woman's face as she answered the phone.

"Hello…" A familiar caller, most likely routine, "I'm fine. How is your day going?" Definitely a personal call, "What have you been doing?" She's concerned; either the caller isn't invested in the conversation or the routine is different from normal. Or perhaps it's both. Sherlock, still leafing through the pages of his welcoming paperwork, narrowed his eyes in concentration. Really, the call was none of his business, yet the mystery of the situation made it impossible to resist.

"O-ok, I'll speak to you later…Bye…" Noting that the phone lingered in her hand for a brief moment before she slowly dropped the handset back to the table top, Sherlock closed what little distance there had been between him and the desk and handed the form back, "Thank you, Mr. Holmes. You'll be staying in accommodation block B" There was another pause as the woman rifled through a somewhat tattered folder of keycards, "secondfloor, room 21. Most of our students remain in the campus accommodation just for their first year, although you'll always find one or two who stay on a little longer," Answering with nothing but a nod again, Sherlock took the card and spun on his heel to leave the room. With just a hint of hesitation at the door, he turned back to face the main body of the office and focused his attention at the very same desk he'd just departed from.

"You're right. He's cheating on you"

"Wh-what?" So taken aback, the woman stood, allowing her chair to topple back in the process.

"Your boyfriend. You were right, he is cheating on you" Sherlock offered the smallest of smiles before turning his back and heading for the door once again.

"How could you possibly know that? I didn't ev-" With a slight creak and a click, Sherlock pulled the door to behind him, ultimately stopping the woman mid sentence.

"Making an impression already I see, Sherlock" Mycroft Holmes leant casually against the opposite wall, his arms folded neatly across his chest.

"Don't you have research or something to be doing?" Sherlock bit back with a small roll of his eyes, "I don't need you to check up on me every minute of the day" He added with a tone that held just the slightest hint of a threat.

"Not checking up. Just happened to be passing by and saw you harassing the poor woman" There was a short pause as Mycroft considered his next question, "How did you know that about her boyfriend, anyway?"

"I wasn't harassing her, _Mycroft_" Sherlock finally came to a halt, finding his brother much easier to converse with when he wasn't trailing along behind, "In fact, I said very little to her" There was a moment's silence as the elder Holmes brother watched the younger expectantly. With another roll of his eyes Sherlock drew his hands from where they'd been resting in his pockets and pinched the bridge of his nose, "She was clearly waiting for the phone call, first of all suggesting that the caller is someone she cares about and, furthermore, that it is a regular occurrence. She kept looking at the clock, implying that the call comes at the same time every day and she was waiting for it. But she kept biting her lip. She was nervous, probably because she's having doubts about the relationship"

Sherlock held up a finger as Mycroft attempted to interrupt; ready to ask how his younger brother even knew the person on the other line was the woman's boyfriend, "There was lipstick on her front teeth, so she'd clearly been worried about the call all morning. The voice on the other end of the phone was a young man – her boyfriend then judging by the way she spoke to him – so she's concerned that he's cheating on her" Sherlock stopped, looking almost smug as he arched a single eyebrow.

"How can you be so sure that the boyfriend is actually cheating if you didn't even hear his end of the conversation?" Sherlock scoffed as if the answer was obvious.

"He ended the conversation after only a few minutes on the line and Miss Natalie Turner was quite obviously expecting a much longer call. Not to mention that he called at 11:53. 5 minutes before their scheduled telephone time. No one would organize a scheduled telephone call for five to the hour. Therefore, he has blown Natalie off for another girl which, in other words, means he is a cheating bas-"

"Yes, you've proved your point Sherlock. Again" Mycroft sighed, disguising the fondness he felt for his brother with exasperation. Without another word, Sherlock turned away from his sibling and commenced his journey to the campus accommodation blocks, "Sherlock, just one more thing…" Sherlock slowed, turned, but continued to walk backwards, "Natalie Turner…You know her full name after just 15 minutes"

"Yes?" Sherlock frowned at the statement, not fully understanding it's point.

"Getting to know her already, then?" Mycroft's expression betrayed the true meaning of his words. It was a common fact amongst the Holmes family that Sherlock had shown very little interest to the opposite sex throughout his years as a teenager. In fact, he'd never once considered breaching the topic at all.

"She was wearing a name badge, Mycroft!" Sherlock retaliated with an impatient snort and strode from the university's main administration offices, leaving Mycroft in his wake.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

John sat at his desk, staring at a page half covered in the scrawl of his own hand. Running his fingers through his hair, he sighed deeply. Despite being undeniably intelligent, John was not really one for academia, and when it came to essays, well, there really was only so much excitement that the study of liver function could provide. Sometimes, John simply wanted more. His fingers ran through the same portion of fringe once more and he stretched, arching his back in his chair. He straightened up the photograph on the shelf above his desk and tapped his pencil aimlessly against the desktop. 4 pages, about another 3 to go; it was no good, it would have to wait. He lifted his pad and put it into the desk drawer, out of sight and out of mind. Checking the clock, he wondered where Mike would be – home by now probably. Lifting the room phone he called through to Mike's halls. No answer. In that case, he was likely in the library. John jumped up and took his black jacket from the hook behind the door and picked up his bag, removing from it the textbooks of the day to lighten the load and strew them over the spare bed in his room.

He turned to the door and went for the handle. In a split second he turned again, picked up the books and put them neatly on his shelf instead. Again, he went for the door and made a left along the corridor toward the stairs as it clicked and locked shut behind him.

As he approached the main door of the building he felt in his jacket pocket for his swipe card when a voice from reception stopped him.

"Watson? Room 2.21?" He stopped abruptly a little surprised by the stranger that knew his name and apparently also his address.

"Er, yes?" he craned his neck to see where the voice came from before turning the corner.

A pale boy with a mop of curly black hair stood at the security desk of the building. He was younger than him for sure but considerably taller. A first year, probably. His stance made him look even taller than he probably was as he towered over the small unassuming lady that ran the two residence buildings on North Gower Street. He didn't slouch like other students and his manner was much more refined.

"John Watson, isn't it?"

"Yes, yes. Why?"

"Good timing John" she turned to the other boy "See, I told you I remember everyone in here!" she turned back to John "This is Sherlock. He's moving into your room." the lady explained.

"Sherlock Holmes" the boy said softly, stepping forward and putting out his hand. His voice was – well – a bit posh, John thought.

"John. Watson."

"I thought you could show Sherlock up to your room, I do have to dash. A few new students arriving today."

"Sure… ok sure" The lady motioned for the boys to follow one another back up the stairs.

"Thank you, Mrs Hudson" Sherlock smiled, charmingly. He went to take his suitcase and John lifted one of the boxes he had stacked neatly waiting to take upstairs. It was heavy, full of files and folders, but John had more strength than one would assume for his height.

"A difficult essay is it? I assume you needed to go and get some air. Sorry we stopped you."

"Oh it's OK…what? How did you know I was writing an essay?"

"Is it this one?" Sherlock stopped outside the room with the small plaque - 2:21.

"Yep, try your card" John took them out of the envelope that Sherlock held. "That one-" he handed it to Sherlock "-is for this door, the other one is for the main doors when security has gone home".

"Oh… thank you" Sherlock placed the card into the slot by the handle, the green light blinked with an affirming click of the lock.

After the second lot of boxes had been brought up, (John thought this was a strange ratio of clothes to paperwork) Sherlock sat on the edge of the previously vacant bed and put his fingertips together under his chin, staring at the wall opposite.

"Sherlock?" John said feeling he was interrupting a moment of thought. "I'm going for a walk – make yourself at home I guess." Sherlock nodded appreciatively.

"How did you know about the essay? You never told me." John asked as he left, the half open drawer reminding him of Sherlock's comment.

"What else do students need to get away from?" Sherlock smiled.

"I guess." agreed John. This guy didn't seem too bad. He had hoped Mike would move into the vacant spot after his last roommate had flunked out, but there was something about Sherlock Holmes that made John think university might just be about to get a bit more interesting.

"I'm doing medicine" John added "Just, by the way"

"I know" replied Sherlock. "The books" he nodded to John's shelf in explanation as the other turned around and left to look for Mike.

John glanced back at the now closed door to his dorm room, shaking his head a little as he pushed the sleeves of his jumper up to his elbows. Feeling much lazier than usual, John risked the detour to the lifts deciding that just once he couldn't be bothered to take the stairs. He had never prided himself as being the lucky kind of guy. In fact, he'd almost grown used to things rarely going his way. Rounding the corner to the elevators simply proved to be case in point on the matter.

"Oh for-" John bit his tongue, holding back the curse he so wanted to let out. The 'out of order' sign was attached to the metallic doors at an angle. As if the scrawled paper note wasn't offensive enough, it hadn't even been hung straight. "Bloody sod's law…" John muttered to himself. Lips drawn tight and brow low over his eyes, the doctor's expression begged anyone to challenge him now. With a sigh and a turn, he trudged his way back to the stairs. Digging his hands deep into his trouser pockets, John turned to take the next flight of stairs, and narrowly missed being thwacked in the shoulder by the door it swung open from the other side

"Whoa! Jesus, will you watch where y-" John stopped, his words choking him slightly. He attempted frantically to reel them back as he met the eyes of the girl who had just burst through the doors.

"Oh, God! John, I'm so sorry! Did I hit you?" Sarah Morstan, swinging her shoulder back so it rested on her back, put her hand on John's shoulder, and bit her lip. Her fingers clung to the wool of his jumper, her nursing instincts clearly taking charge over any rational thought processes.

"No, no. Sarah, no, you're fine…" John's voice was an almost inaudible mumble, his eyes refusing to leave the floor at his feet. "You just startled me, is all…" He added, ashamed of himself for reacting so aggressively.

"Well…So long as I didn't hurt you" With a somewhat condescending pat on the arm, Sarah released her grip and brought her bag back to sit by her hip. She looked to John expectantly, waiting for him to continue the conversation. He didn't. "So, uh…Where are you off to in such a foul mood?"

"Oh! No, I…The lift, it…" John could feel his cheeks burning, the heat threatening to reach his ears, as he stumbled over his words, "I'm looking for Mike. You haven't seen him about, have you?" Sarah arched an eyebrow, an amused smile playing on her lips – the lips that John couldn't help but look at as they parted to speak.

"On the first floor of an accommodation block that isn't is? No, can't help you there I'm afraid." John dropped his face into his palm, abashed by the small trill of laughter that followed Sarah's response.

"Of course…That was a stupid question…" He replied, although more to himself than the woman in front of him. Another awkward silence filled the stairway, both parties once again lost for words.

Sarah seemed to realize that the conversation wasn't going to go anywhere, and broke the silence with a cheerful "So…I'll see you around!" Her voice was just a little too enthusiastic for the situation.

"Huh? Oh! Yes! Yes…See you around…" John's voice hung in the air as he reluctantly drew his final words out. Watching as Sarah offered a friendly grin, he couldn't help but think how much grief Mike would give him if he didn't seize the moment. He'd wasted too many opportunities to do so again now.

"S-Sarah!" He stumbled to the top step, gripping the rubber-covered banister as he craned to catch Sarah's attention.

"John?" Her voice was heard before her face became visible again, peering up between the metal struts of the railings. Her face framed, John allowed himself a moment to study her expression.

"I, uh…Do you…" He closed his eyes and cleared his throat. It was now or never. "Do you want to go out sometime? For a coffee, or-"

"Sure. Yeah, that'd be great" The bluntness of the reply caught John off guard and he stood, dumbfounded, for perhaps a moment too long. "John?" Shaking himself from his reverie, John finally took the first few steps down to meet Sarah properly.

"S-sorry. Yes! That's, uh, that's brilliant! I'll…When would you…" Sarah laughed again, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"You have my number, right? Why don't you text me a place and a time and I'll let you know whether I can make it or not" John nodded, his jaw hanging open ever so slightly. Without another word, Sarah turned again and trotted down the remaining stairs until she reached the ground floor. John watched her as best he could, considering pinching himself to see if what had just happened was real. With a small jump and a large grin, he bounced back to the top of the flight before remembering his original destination, spinning, and stumbling excitedly to the ground floor too. What had originally been a trip to fill time was now a matter of urgency. He had to find Mike Stamford.


End file.
